At the center
of everything
there is a beat-
of a heart
of a drum
that carries all life.

It all moves,
fluxes, and flows.
a waltz, then a foxtrot.
It doesn't matter,
it's all the same-
                            same life force, same song.

I, too, hear that music,
and so I dance.

We are slaves of the night,
thinking,
forever may not exist.

I failed, I stumbled,
but you were there
to remind me of tomorrow.

I may not be perfect,
but my heart
burns like ice.

We are slaves of the night,
you and I
are living stories.

Falling out of love
Is something that happens
Minds and hearts
Drift apart
New loves
Taken up in place
Of old ones
Some love remains
But others change
Hearts once on fire
Tamed by the dulling reality
Of complacency
Loves change
The heart doesn't

Im fine*
Falls out of my mouth
So easily
The words no longer
Hold meaning

Starlight wings white as snow,
Illuminating the night sky.
Will you take me?
Can I reach you?

The resonating sound of love,
Sends ripples through the ocean of my heart.
Once an endless abyss,
Now harbors summery waters.

Your words imbued with sunlight,
Drive away the most torturous thoughts.
As the notes of your dulcet voice,
Echo through the airways.

The rhythmic beat of your heart,
Like the ticking of a clock.
I hear it.
I feel it.
I need it.

Oh, bearer of radiant wings;
I continue to climb higher;
Continue to work harder,
Continue to stand taller.

I will fly with you;
I will reach you;
And I will touch you;
As you have touched me.

Cigarettes* ignited
       sips of champagne.
Naked; smoking,
       playing ebony & ivory,
       piano stories
Singing souls of ghosts
        & secrets.
Broken rainbows form & flee,
        light catching green
Hazel eyes, tear drops,
       of love; forming
       drowning oceans.
Planting forests; replacing
        papier- mâché covering
        a blackened heart,
Of a lonely girlfriend
        wrapping herself in a
        lovers left
        winter jumper.
Full exposure; a camera lens
        focused in on clouds
        dissipating.
Window panes,
         pouring mirrored drops
         of translucent balloons.
Wishing dreams
          of,
Letting
          go.
Lift her,
           to that place named,
           silence.

© Sia Jane

Little hands.
Like mother.
And a cheeky smile
Like me.
I'm so proud to be
Your father.
No-one means
So much to me.